


Exception and Restraint

by jazzypizzaz



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Gen, Identity Issues, M/M, Pre-Slash, a meh approach to canon timelines, set on DS9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:43:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7430813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzypizzaz/pseuds/jazzypizzaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two conversations between Data and Worf about how to live among humans and what it means to be a person.  Data visits DS9 as a consulting science officer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Conversation #1 occurs during the episode Statistical Probabilities, 6x09 of DS9, after this conversation:
> 
> BASHIR: She thought they might respond to meeting someone like them, who was living a normal life. She was also hoping that one day they might be able to live on their own and be productive.  
> O'BRIEN: Well, let's hope they don't become too productive. Might make the rest of us look bad.  
> WORF: It is not a laughing matter. If people like them are allowed to compete freely, then parents would feel pressured to have their children enhanced so that they could keep up.  
> ODO: That's precisely what prompted the ban on DNA resequencing in the first place.  
> BASHIR: Giving them a chance to contribute doesn't necessarily mean sanctioning what was done to them. They didn't ask to have their DNA tampered with. They were only children. And why should they be excluded just because their parents broke the law?  
> SISKO: You're right. It's not quite fair. But even so, it seemed like a good way to discourage genetic tampering.  
> O'BRIEN: Besides, it's not as if we're trying to exclude them from anything. We're just talking about limiting what they're allowed to do.  
> BASHIR: Like joining Starfleet.  
> WORF: Exactly.  
> BASHIR: Are you saying that I shouldn't be allowed to wear this uniform?  
> WORF: Well, you are an exception.  
> BASHIR: An exception. I should be used to that, I've been one all my life. First because of the DNA resequencing, and now because I've been allowed to join Starfleet.  
> WORF: Perhaps I should not have said anything.

Worf fiddles with the controls on the console, punching buttons more roughly than necessary until it starts beeping angrily at him.  He growls in frustration before fixing the problem.  Data, who is crouched under a nearby console, pauses in his work to look up at Worf intently.

 

“You keep expelling breath, and the muscles in your jaw appear tense.  You also have growled under your breath several times.  This indicates to me that something has upset you.  Would you like to talk about it?”

 

Worf looks down at Data, who now stands up and watches Worf’s reaction carefully.  Worf prides himself on his restraint, but he wouldn’t be a Klingon if he didn’t growl under his breath occasionally.  What surprises him is that Data perceives that a deeper matter is bothering him than the technical problems with his ship.  It shouldn’t though, and Worf didn’t quite realize how much he missed Data’s quiet, steady presence on Deep Space Nine until now.  

 

However, instead of expounding on this aloud, Worf simply says, “I am fine.”

 

Data nods, succinct.  He starts to turn back to work on his console, but stops and turns back to face Worf.    

 

“I would like to remind you that I consider you a friend and would not hesitate to confide in you were I facing any troubles I wished to discuss.  Something appears to be distracting you from your work.  If it would not help to discuss it outloud, I suggest we take a break and attempt this project later.”

 

“It is nothing,” Worf says, an automatic reaction.  Worf’s defenses and irritation had raised at the possibility that Data would continue probing until he talked (Deep Space Nine is a station of meddling busybodies, and Worf has yet to truly get used to this), but the very fact that Data gives him the space to do what is best for himself without expectation lets him relax enough to  _ want  _ to talk.  Perhaps it would help to get advice.  “You have heard of the...  _ people  _ from the… institution visiting the station?”

 

Data nods.  “I had the good fortune to assist them in their endeavors earlier this afternoon.  It was a highly enjoyable experience, although I admit I could not always predict the proper way to react to their social behavior.  They did not seem to mind however.”

 

Worf considers this and hesitates before continuing.  “What was your assessment of them?  In a professional capacity.  Were they… useful?  At the work you helped them with?  Did you not find them… odd?”

 

“I myself have been told I am odd, so in that respect we are received similarly by our co-workers.”  Data tilts his head, thoughtful.  “Professionally, our particular talents complement each other.  While I am faster at calculation and computation, they are better able to leap past the immediate logical evidence to creative solutions and emergent conclusions.  I would say that neither of us is more or less useful than the other, simply different.”  

 

Worf nods, twists his mouth, then breaks eye contact with Data.  “Earlier today, the senior officers met to discuss their integration into society.  I did not wish to offend, but I believe I upset Dr. Bashir with my opinions.”  He looks back up at Data, who nods, listening and impassive.  “I said that if they were able to compete freely with non-enhanced people, this would pressure other parents to risk breaking the law banning such DNA tampering in order for their kids to keep up.”

 

“A logical conclusion based on a discrete set of premises.”  Data frowns.  “Would this not also ban Dr. Bashir from his occupation?”

 

“I noted that he could be an exception, but this only seemed to upset him further.”  Worf scowls, restraining a growl, and instead gestures violently.  “I understand this better than most!  I was the first Klingon in Starfleet.  I have been considered an  _ exception _ throughout my life.  I have worked hard to practice restraint among humans, so that I do not--” 

 

Worf’s voice raises in volume as he speaks, his eyes flashing and hands waving.  When he realizes this he cuts himself off, practicing breathing exercises to maintain control.  Data stands placidly watching him, unphased by the outburst.

“I believe I may understand why you drew this conclusion, even if I do not understand what it feels like to be upset.  As the only android in Starfleet, while people may accept me as an individual, as you know many have expressed disapproval with allowing more lifeforms like me even to exist.”

 

Worf, now calmer, is grateful for this olive branch extended to him. It occurs to Worf, belatedly, that of all people aboard the station, Data would understand his position more than expected; Data is also an “exception” to many people.  Worf continues by saying, quietly this time, “I have greater strength than humans, and I am proud to be Klingon… but my greater abilities-- and the responsibility on me this imposes to also practice restraint-- does not encourage parents to create unnatural children.”

t

Data tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed, considering.  “The danger to the children’s health involved in this scenario, as well as the lack of agency of the children to choose their own path, would be a troublesome outcome.  However, while like the genetically enhanced individuals I did not play an initial role in my programming, I  _ am  _ a synthetic lifeform--” Data places his hand on his chest, where a heart would be on anyone else, and if Worf didn’t know better he would think he hit a nerve. “My creator built me to be stronger and faster than humans, while retaining their capacity for gentleness and acceptance.  Would you consider me unnatural?”

 

Data looks directly into Worf’s eyes with this last statement, intense, and something about those electric yellow eyes hints at passion, but that may be wishful thinking on Worf’s part.  Worf has the sudden desire to wrestle Data to the ground, to engage him in a glorious romantic battle, but this is only a fleeting, inappropriate daydream before Worf turns his attention back to the more serious matter at hand.  

 

“I… it does not matter what I think.  I regret using that word,” Worf says, abashed.  “You are of course a valid lifeform just as the augments are.”  While Data may not get angry or take offense, it is a matter of honor to Worf to apologize for intruding on a subject he knows is important to Data.  

 

“Of course.  Thank you.”  Data nods in acknowledgement, and Worf feels a relief he didn’t know he was holding out for.   

 

“You and I, however, adapt to our surroundings.”  Worf knows he should probably drop this while he’s ahead, but the drive for Data to understand him wins out.  “I am trained in diplomatic solutions to resolve conflict with weaker individuals when physical combat would be unfair or could be avoided.  It would not be honorable to impose Klingon values on those who are not Klingon.  I make the effort to fit in and practice restraint, to make humans comfortable in my presence; the visiting augments  _ do not even try _ \--” Worf’s voice becomes heated at this last phrase, so he takes a deep breath before continuing. “--and Dr. Bashir’s position is that they should not have to.”

 

“I as well have spent my life attempting to learn what it means to be human and to work among them.  However, one conclusion I have come to is that there are infinite ways to  _ be  _ human, and none are automatically invalid.  For us, adaptation and restraint suit our purposes, but for Jack and the other augments this may not be possible or even desired.  We are all on our own journeys in life.”

 

“Perhaps so,” Worf says.  The admission hangs in the air, and Worf says, with a reluctant huff, “I will attempt to apologize to Dr. Bashir tomorrow.”

 

“I would like you to know that you do not have to restrain yourself with me if you do not wish to,” Data says, straightforward and sincere as always.  

 

Worf is not quite sure where this admission is coming from, and he stares at Data for several moments, as several possible implications flit through his mind.  Data’s strength matches or exceeds his own; Worf could likely not harm him if he tried.  This opens up a world of… perhaps less-than honorable applications that Worf had never truly considered.  He shakes his head to rid himself of such romantic notions.  There are any number of more innocent, platonic applications “lack of restraint” could assist with that Data was surely referring to instead.

 

“I will keep that in mind.”  Worf and Data exchange professional nods, Data watching him carefully the whole time.  Worf glances at the console, ready to continue working now that Data has given him the space to vent his frustrations, but pauses to say, “You should join me in the holosuite this evening for sparring.  I can inform you in the ways of Klingon weaponry.”

  
“I would like that,” Data says.  Worf grunts in acknowledgement and turns his attention to the console at last, pressing buttons for the diagnostic.  It is likely wishful on his part to read more into the smile Data gives him at the confirmation of future plans together, to read anything more than friendly interest in the way Data watched his face so attentively while Worf was speaking, but nonetheless Worf finds his heart lighter looking forward to their (unfortunately) platonic get-together tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Conversation #2 takes place during episode Badda-Bing, Badda-Bang, 7x15 of DS9, after this conversation:
> 
> NOG: I'll tell you one thing, if this Frankie Eyes hurts Vic in any way, he's going to have to answer to me.  
> WORF: I do not understand how you could feel such loyalty for a hologram.  
> NOG: He's not just a hologram, he's my friend.  
> O'BRIEN: Don't you like Vic?  
> WORF: As a singer, I find him entertaining. But beyond that, I neither like him nor dislike him. He is a hologram, and therefore he does not exist.  
> KIRA: He does for me.

Worf turns to leave, and to his surprise bumps into Data, who had been observing the conversation about Vic Fontaine off to the side.  It has been over a year since Data was last on the station, and much has happened since, but meeting those familiar yellow eyes with his own, Worf finds himself immediately relaxing in a way that he rarely can around others.  

 

“It is good to see you, Data.  I hope your journey here was pleasant.  I am heading to the Replimat for lunch.  If you would care to join me, I would enjoy your company.”  Worf all too often finds other people roping him into their social outings, whether he would prefer to be alone or not, but with Data he finds himself craving the android’s steady presence.

 

“My journey was satisfactory.  I will gladly accompany you.”  They walk in companionable silence down the corridor, before Data says, abruptly, “Do you consider me your friend?”

 

Worf turns his head sharply towards Data, whose face is as curious and impassive as ever.  “Of course.  Although we have not seen each other recently, we have served together many years in Starfleet.  I would trust you with my life.”  Perhaps the question did not necessitate so direct and sincere a response, but Worf wants to squash any implication that Data may be insecure in Worf’s affection for him.

 

Data smiles and tilts his head in thanks.  “As I would with you.  On the Enterprise, we certainly survived through many difficult circumstances due solely to the strength and acumen of our fellow crew members.”

 

Worf grunts and nods in agreement.  “I am honored and fortunate to have served alongside one with such strength and intelligence as yourself.”  

 

“Yes, my strength is due to Soong’s decision to build 65% of my bodily composition out of tripolymer composites,  31.3% out of molybdenum-cobalt alloys, and 3.4% out of bioplast sheeting.  I have an ultimate storage capacity of eight hundred quadrillion bits and a total linear computational speed rated at sixty trillion operations per second.”  While Data recites this information, Worf listens intently, not interrupting, even though he’s already heard this spiel numerous times and is not sure what point Data is trying to make.  Data continues, tilting his head forward, and Worf is sure to listen closely.  “My ability to process information and weather physical duress is an essential part of my programming, but it is not all of who I am.”

 

“Of course.  I did not mean to imply otherwise,” Worf says, confused.

 

Data nods, but his mouth is pursed, thoughtful.  “In addition to our professional duties, do you also feel personal affection towards me?”

 

Worf pauses, looking Data up and down as if he could figure out why Data might be unsure about their friendship from the body language of his slender (entirely too attractive) frame.  Worf has grown to care about his co-workers on Deep Space Nine, but it is not always easy to understand them.  Walking alongside Data and conversing with him, it feels like old times, as if no time has passed from when they would see each other every day on the Enterprise.   

 

“Yes,” Worf says, in response to Data’s question.  He finds that he means this without qualification.  It’s not the “yes I value your companionship but your eyes remind me of my dead wife” that he feels for Ezri.  It’s not the “yes I admire your skill and compassion, but you are often an obnoxious and over-talkative child” that he feels for Dr. Bashir.  It’s not the “yes I respect your seriousness and attention to duty, but you are still a Ferengi” that he feels for Nog.  With Data there are no pretensions, no worrying about identity, and no restraining growls of irritation.  He has missed Data greatly, without qualification, and now feels compelled to ensure Data feels the same.  “Do you also hold personal affection towards me?”

 

“I consider you a personal friend outside of our status as colleagues.  However, I neither like you nor dislike you.  Some may find that offensive or difficult to conceive, but as an android I have no emotions.”

 

Something about that statement sounds familiar to Worf, and it bothers him, but he says, “I understand and that is acceptable to me.” 

 

They’ve now arrived at the Replimat, so Worf, still contemplating what this conversation is really about, gets his food and meets Data at a nearby table.

 

While Worf munches, Data picks up their dialogue from where they left off.  “As an android made by a human, I have much in common with a holographic person.”  

 

In a flash, Worf understands the point Data has been building to.

 

“But unlike Vic Fontaine, you are not a hologram, you are an android.”  Worf gestures with a fork, hoping to smooth this over.

 

“Yes, but as I discussed, like a hologram, my components were designed, programmed, and assembled by a human.  I share 85% of the same metallic compounds as the technology that projects Vic Fontaine into existence as well as a similar mental structure as the memory banks that hold his thought processes.  It may be accurate to say that he is  _ more  _ like me than organic humanoids are.  A cousin, perhaps.”

 

“There is a difference.  You are alive and he is not.”

 

“I do not think that we are that different at all.  Our existence may be synthetically rendered, but we both make our own decisions and have our own goals.”

 

“Perhaps that is true.  I did not mean to offend,” Worf says.  Data nods with a smile, and they sit quietly together.  Worf continues with his lunch, still a bit ill at ease that he, however unintentionally, invalidated Data’s personhood, despite that Data appears content to drop the matter.  The last time their conversation veered into similar territory bounces around Worf’s mind, including a statement Data made that has stuck with him ever since.  Worf plays with the gagh on his plate, pushing it around with his fork in contemplation.  “You said once that I did not have to restrain myself around you.”

 

“That is correct.  I have perfect recall for all past conversations.  That is what I told you when I last visited the station, and this statement is still true today.”  Data leans forward in his chair as if encouraging Worf‘s train of thought.

 

“I… have lost much in my life since I last saw you.  Namely my wife, Jadzia.”  Now that Worf knows she is in a better place, for among the first time since this event, Worf can say this without the accompanying bitter anguish.  His blood still boils to enact vengeance against that filthy Cardassian, Dukat, but he now feels ready to let other people into his life.  Not to fill Jadzia’s role of course-- he will always cherish her memory and what she meant to him-- but she would not want him to be alone, and with Data, Worf feels he may not have to be any more.

 

“I heard.  You have my sympathies, and I am sorry for your loss.”

 

“I have ensured her place in Sto-vo-kor and… settled matters with Ezri as best I can.”  Worf hesitates, suddenly nervous, but Data’s calm gaze steadies him.  “What I mean to say is, I have lost much while serving on Deep Space Nine, but I have also gained in the way of friendship among the crew.  I now realize I include in this Vic Fontaine, who gave me space to be destructive and angry after Jadzia’s death.”  Even if Data does not reciprocate, his rejection would be a more favorable outcome than the regret that would follow if Worf never steeling himself to ask the question now tumbling through his mind.  “I would not want to risk losing our friendship, but I  _ would  _ like to expand on it.  Would you be interested in having a romantic dinner with me, followed by an evening of Klingon opera on the Defiant?  The acoustics are excellent.”

 

Data tilts his head, perplexed.  “Would it be correct to assume that if this evening goes well, there is the possibility that we would follow these activities with sexual relations, in which you would not have to practice restraint?”

 

Worf feels heat rise in his face, blushing, at how crude his proposal may have sounded in conjunction with his previous recall.  “Only if that would also be acceptable to you.  I would prefer we consider establishing a consistent pattern of romantic evenings, comprised of various activities acceptable to both of us, before engaging in such… carnal knowledge.  But that is something I would hope to build toward, yes.”

 

Data nods, affirmative, then smiles slowly and broadly.  “I too would like to experience intimacy with you through a variety of romantic activities, both sexual and not.  If it is acceptable to you, I will stop by your quarters to pick you up at 1930 hours tonight.  I believe it is customary to dress out of uniform to signify the personal nature of the experience.”

 

“Indeed, I would like that very much.”  Worf hesitates, then glances down at where Data’s hand is on the table.  He reaches over to cover it with his own, smoothing over Data’s cool skin with his thumb, reverently. “Then it is a date,” he says, not able to hide the quiet wonder in his voice.

 

“It is a date.”  Data smiles.  He flips his hand over so that he can squeeze Worf’s, his grip firm and unflinching, stronger than most humanoids.  

  
Worf’s pulse quickens, the blood pumping rapid through the eight chambers of his heart at the promise of what’s to come.  He feels a small knot deep inside loosen, as if it had been waiting for this moment for years to finally relax.  


End file.
